Tiny Room

There's nought to do but sit and loom In the confines of her tiny room. I sit and savour all the silence, Like a sentinel, a guardian, a lonely giant. Her clothes, her trinkets, her many books; I offer them all my somber looks. Until the hour which she returns, My mind and heart forever yearns. It starts like knots inside my throat, But soon it burns and makes me choke. Little flames burn inside my guts; I truly, now, can see my luck. So come back soon, come back quick - It's you I choose, it's you I pick. There's nought to do but sit and loom In your beautiful, peaceful, tiny room.